


Forced

by wings128



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Aliens Made Them Do It, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Ronon, Dubious Consent, First Time, M/M, Male Slash, Mind Control, Non-Consensual, Top John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 12:55:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2773742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wings128/pseuds/wings128
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“May the force be with you.” John smirked, couldn’t help it, and wondered if this was how the Jedi felt.  A constant hum from within.  Deep within.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forced

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this Livejournal sgkinkmeme prompt:  
>  _“SGA, John Sheppard/Ronon Dex, aliens make them do it, mind control”_

Straight out of the gate, it hit them; soaked everything in three seconds. Driving torrential rain that stung their eyes and burned like acid on exposed skin.

“Rodney!” John yelled to be heard over the downpour and the vacuum implosion of the gate shutting down. “Dial us out!”

For once McKay didn’t complain, shoulders hunched as he focused on dialling home.

“We are not alone.” Teyla warned, close on John’s left. Her words confirmed by the solidity of Ronon, crowding his right.

John was having trouble seeing anything in this shit. Squinting revealed only shadowy outlines – five, maybe twenty – approaching dead ahead.

“Rodney, hold up!”

The first chevron clunked into position over his head and the gate’s energized hum filled John’s skull and made the hairs on his arms stand up. 

John shook his head, but it did no good. Only splattered wet hair to his forehead and left him feeling seasick. He still couldn’t see the welcome party any clearer. ‘Damn, what the hell was goin’ on?!’

He felt Ronon relax into him, holster his blaster just as John uncurled his fingers from the P90 clipped to his vest. ‘Yeah, nothin’ about this was good.’

But no matter how hard he tried, John couldn’t get anything to obey his mind’s command.

^Come with us…Colonel Sheppard.^

‘Shit! How’d they know his name?’ John knew for a McKay fact that they’d never been here before. 

^Come with us…our dwellings are but a short stroll ahead.^ All of a sudden it seemed like John could think of nothing he wanted to do more. ^We shall have you dry…and satisfied…momentarily.^

Teyla moved from John’s side, and though John’s first instinct was to reach for her, hold her back, stay together; his arms remained lax and heavy at his sides. Ronon too, left John standing exposed to the elements and possible attack. Bronzed muscular arms sleek as polished cedar in the stupid rain.

John felt the pull, a tug behind his ribs that encouraged, lured him into motion with the promise of warmth, and the weight of those arms wrapped tight around him. ‘Where the hell had that come from?!’

Now that it was seeded, the idea grew. Every sense heightening a fantasy John’d kept hidden; from everyone but this force.

“May the force be with you.” John smirked, couldn’t help it, and wondered if this was how the Jedi felt. A constant hum from within. Deep within.

John groaned, a vision of Ronon opening for him, pink stretched smooth around him. His cock jerked, held fast in a prison of wet fabric.

“NO!”

^Yes…John.^

‘Dammit! How were they doing this, rifling through his thoughts like this?’ He was going to puke. ‘No one should know, no one could know, they just couldn’t – especially not Ronon.’

The rain had ceased before John had taken notice of the path they were following. No sense of the direction they’d taken, in order to find their way back, once they got free. Only the feel of Ronon’s smooth golden skin under his palms, as Ronon arched up to meet him.

‘This was bad.’ John watched, helplessly fascinated as his team and Ronon, stripped; unable to disobey the suggestions in their minds.

Ronon turned, eyes wide, pupils shot to hell with arousal, and John had never seen anything more beautiful. The man was Adonis, and John’s for the taking.

“NO!”

John wanted Ronon, had wanted, craved, hungered for his teammate since he’d woken up bound and staring into these same liquid brown eyes. But this wasn’t how he wanted it to go down. John had fantasied every possible scenario over the years; hot and sweaty on the gym floor, rushed, the fear of discovery making it hotter. Ronon cornering him in the Jumper after Rodney and Teyla had left. Or an after-midnight visit to his quarters, where his door chime signalled rough fucking on his too-small bed. 

Yet, here they were. Ronon systematically stripping away John’s defences along with his off-world blacks. John wept silently for all he was about to lose. This was everything he’d wanted, but if they – _when_ they made it home, it’d be to the shattered pieces of something not-yet-tried, and the spark of betrayal in these eyes. Eyes that had looked to John for leadership, and protection. A trust that John…

Mmmm…Ronon’s mouth was sweet sin. Hot and slick and everything John had imagined it would be. He wanted more, and dove hungrily to meet the invasion of tongue and lips and teeth. Huge hands curved to his ass, their long fingers pushing between, exploring new territory, and making John roll his hips back in encouragement.

There was something wrong about this, though he couldn’t name it. There was someone, maybe two someones, John should be concerned about. Instead the way Ronon ceded to him, fell back onto the red-clothed divan – sculpted torso arching and twisting beneath his hands as John shouldered himself between muscular thighs – consumed his entire focus.

He had wanted this. Had not thought to get it. Yet, here they were. He was sprawled naked and nearing his peak, with John between his legs; hot mouth swallowing him down. Lips stretched to splitting around the meat of Ronon’s cock. Spit and slick, shiny and slurpy with each drag and pull his team leader took. Sucking Ronon toward his end.

Another draw, and a finger pushed – shoved deep. An order he would not disobey. He jerked, both on and away, hips arching into pain and pleasure both. The finger, oiled and knowing, was joined immediately by its fellow; stretching, teasing, demanding Ronon submit. He knew he shouldn’t. There were things, others he should remember.

But John had him pinned, skewered, open and ready, and Ronon wanted him. He whimpered with loss as John removed mouth and fingers together, left Ronon gaping, exposed, and needy. He hated the feeling; reached for the man who was always so close, and always out of reach. Now was different. John was there; up on his knees, fist slick with something extra to his own essence, pumping a cock Ronon needed to feel inside himself. He reached, fingers sinking, curling into soft black silk; tugging John down, and feeling the other man’s weight over him.

John felt sadness wash through his pleasure, pleasure longed for, and yet, somehow tainted beyond description. But Ronon was all-consuming godlike physique, yielding and enfolding as John pressed into his heat; felt himself surrounded and sucked deep. Sweet flutterings urging him to move. 

“Fuck! Ronon!”

John was up, spreading Ronon’s long legs as he pushed them back. Opening Ronon’s hole, stretching it impossibly round the shaft that filled him. John couldn’t take his gaze from where they joined. The slick full slide of his cock disappearing inside Ronon, something he’d never thought to see.

‘Damn that was hot, and wrong, but he’d wanted for so goddamn long.’ Had wanted to fuck the breath from this man, in grunts that could only be John’s name. Power and command, pleasure and submission; John would take it all.

Ronon couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt this full. John was fucking him deep, and he was going to feel him for days. His knees were pressed into his chest, John’s face close between, eyes alive with black fire as their bodies slammed together. Ronon wanted to touch but couldn’t reach. John was taking him, cock reaming him, pounding. He was sending sparks right through Ronon. Every drive nailed dead on. 

He could do nothing but lie there and take it. Take all that John would give him. The grind of John’s abs along Ronon’s neglected cock was never quite enough; his CO’s rhythm a visceral reminder of his place. His pleasure was at his colonel’s command. The idea was incredible, blindingly hot, frustrating beyond all limits.

Ronon growled, only to see John smirk in answer and thrust harder; lifting Ronon’s hips clear of the bed. In. In. IN! And again. More. More. More. He fisted the fabric beneath him, and felt white heat spark in his balls. So close, and yet John seemed to sense everything Ronon was feeling. He shifted his assault, cock no longer on the trigger.

Ronon groaned, heard John’s huff of sadistic mirth.

“Bastard!”

“You’re mine!” John whispered back, softer and more intimate than whatever was driving them.

“Yeah.” Ronon answered, eyes locked with vulnerable hazel. “Yours.”

Ronon’s vision whited out, losing sight of John, but not the feel of him riding deeper; in and in without withdrawal. 

White heat and the fire of release sparked all around and inside him. His name on John’s lips, breath warm and soft as muscles locked in resistant strength. Ronon felt the splatter of his own come between them; friction eased as John rutted them through their aftermath – his body lean, and clumsy, and heavy over him.

He felt his legs fall, graceless, either side of the man he was now able to hold in his rubbery arms.

“Ronon?”

John’s voice, cracked and broken, whispered a hesitant breath over his nipple. His CO’s desolation and loss, solid as any insurmountable barrier, was loud in the quiet that cooled ominously around their nakedness.

“Did you want this; me?” Ronon held still, waited a millennium of eternities for John to answer.

“Since the beginning.” John murmured, adamant in the blush that pushed soft cheek against hard pec.

“Then the _how_ is unimportant.” Ronon assured, cupped his palm to the nape of John’s neck, pulled him in for _their_ first kiss, and felt his lover melt into him.

John couldn’t find words for how he felt. Relief, hope, desire, safety, terror, rage; it was all there. He guessed he’d figure it out later. The force that’d messed with them had gone; dissipating as quickly as it had come. And though being in Ronon’s arms was awesome, having his ass exposed to whoever those silhouettes had been, wasn’t something he was totally comfortable with.

“Teyla, Rodney,” John mouthed between the soft plucking of Ronon’s lips on his. “Continue this back home?”

“Hmmm,” Ronon agreed, and shot John a filthy look. ‘His ass was on fire!’

Ronon shifted from under his new lover in search of clothes. Something would be done about John’s self-satisfied smugness, but it would keep.

Ronon was a very patient man.


End file.
